


nothing to my name (but i can give you that)

by monsterleadmehome



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Head Girl Hermione Granger, Hogwarts Eighth Year
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-19
Updated: 2020-09-19
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:48:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26539120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monsterleadmehome/pseuds/monsterleadmehome
Summary: It's Head Girl Hermione Granger's birthday and all she wants is to forget the war for a few blissful moments. A drunken moment of weakness leads to an unlikely tryst with Draco Malfoy. But when she finds herself wanting more, he pulls away.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 28
Kudos: 534
Collections: Happy Birthday Granger





	nothing to my name (but i can give you that)

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to Meggie for organizing this collection! Originally I had wanted to write something smutty for Hermione's birthday, but then I listened to [this song](https://youtu.be/5Ie9FJl3PAM) and things got angsty. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

For her sixth birthday, Hermione Granger’s parents gift her a stuffed dragon. It’s purple and has an orange flame spewing forth from its snout. It’s cute, but what she really wanted was a book. Something about a princess and a curse and a brave knight who comes to her rescue. She sleeps with the dragon clutched tightly in her arms anyway. 

By her sixteenth birthday, Hermione learns that some princesses save themselves. She no longer dreams of a white knight to take her away. She has learned that she possesses not only the wit, but the bravery and determination to make it through even the toughest of challenges. She receives a beautiful leather journal from Harry and a surprisingly pretty bookmark from Ron, though she suspects Ginny helped pick it out.

On her nineteenth birthday, she is war-worn and tired. For so long, she’d been in survival mode and now she’s back at Hogwarts, alone and unmoored. Harry and Ron chose the quickest route to Auror, but Hermione wanted to finish her education properly. She’s not sure anymore what she’s going to _do_ with that education, but it had seemed only right to at least complete it. Neither of her best friends have sent as much as an owl to commemorate the day.

Why she said yes to McGonagall’s offer of Head Girl is another story. It’s not as if she needed to add another responsibility to her plate, but she finds that staying busy helps her to not… _drift_ as much. If she lets her mind wander at all, it often wanders back to the war. And that’s not a place she likes to revisit.

There are other Prefects on duty tonight, but since she’s Head Girl, she figures she can abuse her privileges a bit and decides to roam the castle. The repairs are coming along nicely, but every so often she’ll spot a jagged crack in the stone or a singed tapestry that reminds her all too acutely of what occurred here mere months ago. She pulls a small flask from her robes and takes a swig of Firewhisky. She’d never been much of a fan of alcohol before, but now—it helps take the edge off.

Hermione absentmindedly strolls the corridors of Hogwarts, ignoring the curious eyes of the portraits as they follow her. Somehow she ends up on the seventh floor. The air shifts around her a bit, the smell of sandalwood rising to her nostrils. “It’s past curfew,” she tells the shadow leaving the Room of Requirement.

“I could say the same to you,” Draco Malfoy replies. He looks slightly disheveled, just like he has every day since he came back. She’s not sure why he chose to return, but his chronic undereye dark circles and slight stubble makes him appear more human, less aristocrat.

“I’m Head Girl. I do whatever the fuck I want.”

He comes closer to her, invading her personal space, enough to breathe her in. “Have you been drinking?”

“Why—want some?” She smirks and pulls her flask out, offering it to him.

Draco grabs the flask from her and sniffs it before taking a generous sip. 

Hermione raises an eyebrow. “Not scared you’re going to catch my Mudblood germs?”

He scoffs and hands the flask back to her. “I haven’t thought that word about you in a long time.” His face falls, and he takes a step back, as if realizing their moment of camaraderie is over.

“Oh.” She dips her head, feeling sheepish, though she’s not sure why.

“Happy Birthday, Granger.” He starts to walk away.

Her eyes snap up. “Wait! You know it’s my birthday?”

He slowly turns around and makes a dismissive gesture with his hand. “I guess I must’ve noticed you celebrating it at one time or another.”

She walks over to him, grabs the edge of his tie, if only to keep from wobbling. “But you _remembered_ it was my birthday.”

He shrugs, but it’s not good enough. Not for her. Who just casually remembers their enemy’s birthday? She feels heat surging through her, taking in the liquid mercury of his grey eyes, the fine point of his nose. She’d secretly always thought he was attractive. “I’m sorry I mentioned it, Gr—”

But she doesn’t let him finish. Instead, she yanks on his tie until he’s forced to bend down as she surges up on her toes to kiss him. It’s sloppy and violent and tastes of firewhisky, but it only takes Draco a millisecond to give in, his arms wrapping around her and hands wandering down to her arse, where he gives a good squeeze. 

The gasp that action elicits is enough for him to push his tongue into her mouth and soon she’s pinned against the wall, back arching her breasts up into him as he ravages her lips with his. She feels his hardened length press into her stomach, and suddenly Hermione knows exactly what she wants for her birthday.

Her hand drifts down, down until she cups him through his trousers. “Please,” she breathes.

He pulls back, his eyes now nearly black with lust. “Are you sure?”

Hermione nods, biting her bottom lip as her fist tightens in his shirt. “I just want to _feel_ something, Draco. Can you make me feel?”

His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. The look in his eyes can only be described as ravenous. “I can do better than that. I can make you come.”

They stumble back towards the Room of Requirement. The door hadn’t disappeared yet, as if it knew someone would be coming right back. Inside, Hermione is nearly stunned to find a warm and cozy study, with comfy leather chairs and a giant bear rug in front of a roaring fireplace. Books line the walls and candles flicker in sconces at intervals between the shelves. “I’ve never seen the room like this before.” 

Draco smirks. “Sometimes I just need to get away from everyone. The first years are terrified of me, and the older students do everything short of spitting on me as I pass.”

The pang in her chest feels a lot like sympathy, but that’s not what this is supposed to be. She pushes him into one of the chairs, capturing his mouth in another kiss instead of replying, and that seems good enough for him. They end up on the rug in front of the fire, and Draco peels her knickers down slowly before burying his head between her thighs.

She was expecting it to be rough, maybe even violent. She had even wanted that, a little pain with the pleasure to distract her from the constant maelstrom in her head. What she gets instead is his elegant tongue weaving poems on her sensitive flesh until she’s writhing underneath him in ecstasy. The first time she comes apart it’s with two of his fingers plunged deep inside her heat and her grip tightening in his platinum hair.

“Good girl,” he croons as he licks her through the spasms.

She’s practically floating, mind completely blank as he pushes her legs up towards her chest and sinks inside her with a groan. He’s quite large and even with how wet she is, the stretch stings in the best way. She’s only had sex a handful of times, but she hadn’t dreamed it could be like this. Draco never breaks eye contact as he fucks her slow and steady, their hips finding the perfect rhythm as their breathing coalesces into one sound. 

It feels like more than it should—and that terrifies her. Still, she gets lost in his storm, her mouth open and panting his name like a prayer as the speed of his thrusts increase. Her second orgasm takes her by surprise, and she digs her fingers into his back as she rides it out. He’s not there yet and doesn’t let up one bit, pounding into her with wild abandon as sweat drips down his brow and lands on her collarbone.

Finally, he grunts and stills, one hand on her hip. It’s the only time she sees his eyes close, as if he’s savoring this moment. His lashes flutter and the first genuine smile she’s ever seen cross Draco Malfoy’s face appears. “That was perfect, Granger. You’re perfect.”

He kisses her again languidly before pulling out and drawing her to his chest. She falls asleep feeling sated and content for the first time in a long time.

* * *

When Hermione wakes, she’s alone again. She would write the whole thing off as a strange dream if not for the fact that she’s still in the Room of Requirement. It seems that Draco had the decency to cover her with a blanket before he left. Part of her wonders if he left because he regrets what they did or if he assumed she would.

The answer is no clearer several days later when he pulls her aside after class. She thought he’d been avoiding her, and it seems she may have been right. “Can we talk?”

She nods and follows him into an alcove.

“Look, Granger—I’m sorry, okay? I’m just trying to keep my head down and get through this year. You were drunk, and I shouldn’t have taken advantage. It won’t happen again.”

Hermione slowly nods. “Oh,” is all she can say. It wasn’t like she didn’t want it. She was the one who threw herself at him, but clearly he isn’t interested in it happening again. “Probably for the best.”

His expression is a mixture of relief and something else she can’t quite parse. “But I’d like it if we could be… friends.”

Her eyes raise to his. “Friends?”

“I know I’ve been awful to you in the past, but hell, everyone here looks like they want to Avada me or stick me in Azkaban. Everyone except you.” He reaches for her hand and the simple gesture shouldn’t devastate her, but it does. 

She lets out a little nervous huff. Maybe she doesn’t need to tell him how she purposely avoids pretty much everyone in the castle. How she eats as quickly as possible before racing off to the library or her quarters so she can be alone. The way he cants toward her, blocking out the light with his tall form makes her think maybe he already knows. “I’d like that.”

But being friends proves more difficult when it’s so easy to drum up the memory of his lips on her skin, his cock thrusting inside of her. At times when they study in the library, the light will hit his eyes just right and she recalls the desperate look he’d had in the glow of the fire. It wounds her pride to think it hadn’t been as earth shattering for him as it was for her.

“Granger,” he starts, idly twirling a quill against his sinful mouth.

“Hmm?” She blinks once, twice, but doesn’t look away.

“You’re staring. Do I have ink on my lip?”

“No. Just lost in thought, I suppose.”

“Ah.” He nods and returns his attention to his textbook. “Happens to me all the time.”

 _I bet it does_ , she thinks glumly.

* * *

At Christmas, she and Draco are two of only a few students who choose to stay at Hogwarts. Hermione invites him to her dorm—his first time inside—where she’s set up a small tree. Her promises of hot cocoa surely help entice him.

“Happy Christmas, Granger.” He hands her a beautifully wrapped package. 

“You didn’t need to get me anything, Draco.” She hands him his gift as well. It isn’t wrapped as neatly—she did it the Muggle way—but a lot of care and effort went into it. She tries not to dwell on why.

He opens his and stares at it. She knitted him a scarf from a super soft grey yarn. She’s really gotten better at knitting, she thinks. 

“You hate it,” she ventures, uneasy with his silence.

He starts to shake his head and put the scarf on. “Not at all. It’s beautiful—and _so_ soft. Like wearing a cloud.”

“I thought it would bring out your eyes.”

“Thank you. Now open yours.”

She carefully unwraps hers, setting the ribbon to the side. It’s a copy of _Emma_ by Jane Austen, and it looks quite old. “Is this—?”

“A first edition, yeah.”

“Draco, I can’t accept this. It must be worth a fortune!”

“Please,” he says. She looks up to see him staring at her with the most confusing expression. She’d call it longing, except she knows he doesn’t feel that way about her. “It came from the Malfoy library, so it didn’t technically cost me anything.”

She grins and clutches the book tightly to her chest. “Okay then. As long as you’re sure.”

He smiles and his gravity pulls her in. Before she knows what’s happening, she’s leaning towards him, but his hand on her shoulder stops her from doing something foolish. “I don’t think that’s wise,” he mumbles, brows creased and jaw tense.

“Right. I’m sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m just going to go put this on my shelf.” She races to her room, placing the book in a pride of place before wiping away the lone tear that’s managed to wind its way down her cheek.

When she returns to the living area, she starts the hot cocoa and pretends like nothing happened. Draco’s mouth forms a line, and he shoves his hands in his pockets as he watches her work. They sip from their mugs in silence as they watch the snow fall through her window.

* * *

The end of the school year only brings more confusion for Hermione. She and Draco have been thick as thieves for the entire school year, but she knows he’s hiding something from her. He also avoids any questions about his plans for after they take their N.E.W.T.s. As soon as the stress of exams are over, she plans to confront him about it. For all the fight her head has put up, her heart won in the end.

She’s in love with Draco Malfoy. 

And she wouldn’t be a Gryffindor if she didn’t give it one last effort. So she sends him a note to meet her down by the lake after his last exam. She paces back and forth, listening to the gentle lapping of the water as she waits.

“Let me guess, you got seven Outstandings.” He strolls down the hill, looking gracefully casual. No robes, no tie, just a crisp, white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbow and black trousers. His dark circles have faded somewhat, and he’s smiling. She thinks she’s never seen someone more beautiful.

“You know me so well,” she replies, wiggling her bare toes in the grass. Her loafers are several meters away, along with her books and bag.

“I do.” He stops an arm’s length away. He rarely touches her.

“Draco,” she starts, eyes shifting down so she doesn’t have to watch his reaction. “I know you want to be just friends and that’s fine, but I need to know what I did wrong. Because honestly you’ve been the best part of this year for me, and I thought that one night we had was pretty spectacular. I wasn’t _that_ drunk, and I remember it all rather well, but I don’t know… maybe I’m just bad at sex.”

“Christ, Granger. Is that what you think?” He steps closer.

She looks up then, letting her anger take over. “What am I supposed to think? You let me in, but then you push me away. You won’t tell me what your plans are—”

He cuts her off. “I told you to leave it. It has nothing to do with you.”

“Right. Of course. Because your future has nothing to do with me. I can take the hint, _Malfoy_. What I can’t understand is why you decided to be nice to me in the first place!” She’s sobbing now, fat, ugly tears that drip down her face. She pushes past him and stomps back toward the castle, ignoring his hand on her arm as she leaves. She casts a nonverbal _Accio_ for her things, which whiz past his head on their way back to her.

* * *

Hermione’s twentieth birthday rolls in with a thunderstorm. She’s working at the Ministry, just a low-level job for now, but it has plenty of room for upward mobility. Harry and Ron come by at lunch to bring her a cupcake and ask if she’d like to get dinner out, but she passes. She gives a flimsy excuse about a quiet night in with Crooks being her ultimate wish.

Really, she can barely stand to be around her friends these days. They’re so blissfully happy with their chosen careers and relationships, and she’s still just muddling through. She hasn’t seen or heard from Draco since that day by the lake, but her copy of _Emma_ still sits on her bookshelf in her modest little flat.

She’s pouring herself a generous glass of red wine and about to unpack her Italian takeaway when there’s a knock at the door. She almost misses it for the clap of thunder that sounded only moments before. When she opens it, she gasps.

Draco is standing in her doorway, drenched to the bone, droplets of water descending from his limp blonde fringe. “I’m sorry for disturbing you on your birthday, but I need to set the record straight.”

She wants to move aside and ask him to come in, but she just stands frozen, unable to even speak.

“They took _everything_ , Hermione. My father thrown in Azkaban, the Manor confiscated, my mother gone to France to stay with family. That book I gave you was one of the few things I managed to grab from home before they raided it. When you kissed me, I knew it was a mistake on your part, but I was weak. I’ve always wanted you, so I gave in. But I’m not a fool—I know I don’t deserve you, and I never have.”

He pauses to catch his breath, and she finally releases hers. “Draco—”

“Just let me finish. When I said it had nothing to do with you, what I meant was it’s all me. _I’m_ the mistake, can’t you see that? You are… perfect, in every way. And you deserve everything. I have _nothing_ left to give you. All I have is my name.”

Hermione stretches her hand up to touch his wet face. “So give me that.”

His eyes widen. “What?”

She finally steps back and pulls him inside, shutting the door. Then she crushes him to herself, getting soaked in the process. “Your name, Draco. You can give me your name.”

He tilts her chin up and kisses her gently. “I’m so sorry. I’ve been an idiot.”

She laughs and casts a drying charm over them both. “Lucky for you I have a soft spot for idiots.”

“I love you so fucking much.” His hands find her arse again, and he lifts her up with alarming ease.

She moans and wraps her legs around him as they stumble into the kitchen. Her food goes cold as he fucks her on the counter, but she still finds it’s her best birthday yet.


End file.
